


Slices of a Life Worth Living

by childhoodlight



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childhoodlight/pseuds/childhoodlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David is an angry man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slices of a Life Worth Living

"Sometimes I feel like I don't know what I'm doing at all," he begins, and her eyes flicker up from the book she's reading, finding his. They're in-between filming scenes, hunched up in her trailer. It's raining. He doesn't know why his steps suddenly brought him to her trailer instead of his own, but sometimes it happens. On most days, spending time with her off-screen isn't even an option in his chaotic mind. Sometimes there's no other option. She waits for him to continue, because she knows. She knows him better than anyone and his stomach flips hatefully at the thought. 

"I just... feel so fucking angry."

He pauses. She's silent.

"I feel so fucking angry at everything, at this fucking cold rain and your red hair and Chris and this stupid city. Sometimes I'm so full of anger I can't focus on my lines. And then I look down. And there you are."

Something akin to affection flickers in his eyes. She's learnt not to take it to heart.

His voice breaks as he continues: "And your eyes keep me there, y'know. It's like... I don't know. It's fucked up. It doesn't make sense. I don't like you."

It's like he's trying to convince himself. Her eyes are steady on his face. He closes his eyes.

"Why is that? Why is it that on most days, I can't breathe with you around? But at the same time, I feel like there's a part of me that...-"

"What, David?" Anger builds in her chest, a fire leaving ashes in her blood.

"I need you." He whispers it, as if he's afraid someone will hear. As if he's afraid she will hear.

She puts her book on the table.

"David, you can't just say things like that to me. Shut the fuck up."

She stands and heads for the small kitchen and the pot of coffee. She pours herself a cup and lets the bitter taste fill her mouth.

"But I do, Gill." 

He stands quickly, walking up to her. 

She takes a step backwards in caution. The cup burns her fingers.

"Why?" he says and puts a hand beneath her shin, lifting her face so that her eyes meet his. It's like he's searching for the answer in her face.

"Stop, David."

"I can't."

His eyes flicker to her lips and she can feel her cheeks burning. 

"Don't kiss me," she says through clenched teeth. 

A slow smirk finds its way onto his face. He's dangerous when he's like this, all anger and frustration and fear and strange warmth and wonder and desperation, and he's directing it all at her. He knows his effect on her well, by now.

His face inches closer to hers, challenging her.

"Don't, David. You'll wake up tomorrow regretting it, we both know that. We both know how this goes." 

"Don't," her voice breaks and her she can feel her eyes welling up. Fuck. She feels a small tear run down her cheek. He catches it on his thumb.

"I want to kiss you. Now," he says, like a stubborn child. The rain smatters against the roof, and she's breathing him.

His face hovers above hers and she refuses to meet his eyes.

"David," she begins, but she doesn't know what to say.

Another tear runs down her cheek.

"I miss you," he says, and it's such a random statement that she almost bursts into laughter.

"Miss me? Why on earth would you miss me? We se each other every fucking day." 

His face is innocent and wondering as the thougths tangle in his mind.

"Well," he begins, "that's the thing. It's like... I miss you. Even now. It's like I miss you and I don't know what to do about it because I don't want you or really like you or want to like you but... you know the feeling when you miss someone so much it burns a bit in your fingers..." he trails off, and this weirdly philosophical David is so fucking rare, she thinks she's dreaming.

His fingers wander down her arm to her hand, leaving ashes on her skin.

The air is dusty and too clean at the same time and she can't breathe without feeling too much of him too close to her, and she curses the earth.

She slips beneath his outstretched arm and heads for the door. She needs to get out of there.

The cold rain is welcome against her warm skin when she steps outside. She breathes loudly, letting the air fill her lungs. She just wants to get away from it all. Back to London, back from this 9 year long dream of rain, early mornings, his brown hair on a pillow, unspoken words, unthought thoughts, touches that wandered to far. 

Anger.

David is an angry man.

She hears the trailer door open. Of course, he would follow her outside. It's always on his terms. Everything about them is always on his fucking terms. His rules, his lines, his feelings, his stupid needs, his..-

"Gill," he says behind her, and she turns around.

The rain is coloring his hair many shades darker and the raindrops get stuck on his eyelashes.

"Yes, David, what?"

"Just... just don't..."

"Don't what, David?" her teeth slip against the rain on her lips.

He's lost, she can see it in his eyes. He doesn't know what he wants or feels or needs, all he seems to know for a fact is his own refusal to leave her alone.

"I don't know," he says. The rain falls around them, thousands of drops on warm skin.

"It's not enough."

She walks past him, opens the trailer to the door and closes the door in his face.

She can hear him approach, but can't let him come inside. 

She locks the door.


End file.
